Humbert
by atheneblue
Summary: Ronnie's mother won't like her. But can she make him a good boy? Rated M for adult content. Strong Lolita themes - possible ick factor.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I do not own the character of Ronnie McGorvey. The other characters in this fic (unless otherwise indicated) are mine.

This one's for Fascinated666.

*****

"Go let the delivery guys in before you take your break, ok?"

"Sure, Leonard," Kitty acquiesced. She logged herself out of the register and scurried from behind the counter. She was flagging, and there was a diet cola in the fridge with her name on it. Literally. Kitty had scrawled her name on the plastic cup with a permanent marker so no one would steal it.

She pushed through the door to the back room of the bookstore and cast a longing eye at the refrigerator before continuing to the outside door. Suction pulled the door open; it drew cool, conditioned air out into the summer heat. The new guy, Ronnie, stood leaning on his handtruck. Al was walking another load off the truck.

"Hey," Kitty said.

Something that vaguely approximated a smile flitted over Ronnie's face, but the expression disappeared under the shadow of his baseball cap when he pushed the load of boxes into the store. Kitty propped the door behind him.

"Howdy, Miss Kitty," called Al, who was a big fan of "Gunsmoke".

Kitty waved and headed back into the chill of the store to retrieve her soda. She gripped the extra-large cup in both of her small hands, measuring out tiny but eager sips from the straw to prevent brain-freeze. She watched Ronnie and Al unloading boxes and tried to decide if she had the time or the inclination to run out for something to eat. Ronnie was slight, and Al was big, so the sight of them together was a little like a vaudeville comedy act. Trying to hide a smile, Kitty worried the plastic straw with her teeth.

"Be right back, Ron. Gonna visit the head." Al adjusted his belt around his generous girth and stepped through the door toward the restrooms.

"Ok, Al," Ronnie answered mildly. His long-lashed eyes flickered toward Kitty as he moved the last boxes from his handtruck.

She looked at the clock on the wall. There were only ten minutes left in her break, and the only thing she felt like was curry, but she would never make it to Shalimar and back in time. She squeaked the straw irritably against the plastic lid of her drink.

Ronnie stared at her mouth, but the look on his face was not that of an irritated man. Kitty recognized the expression immediately. She licked her lips, and the delivery man's eyes went a little hazy.

"How...how old are you, Kitty?" he asked in a husky voice.

"How old do you think I am?" Kitty teased, pursing her lips to take another sip of her soda. She could feel the strength of his desire, and it intoxicated her.

"Fourteen?" Ronnie breathed.

She shook her head coyly.

"Older?"

"Maybe I'm _younger_," she suggested. "How old are you?"

Ronnie swallowed. "Too old for you." His thumb was rubbing along the top rung of the handtruck.

Kitty hesitated for a second, then she let it spill out: "Actually, from what I hear, I'm too old for _you_."

The delivery man turned as if she had slapped him and began to drag the handtruck toward the door. Kitty hurried into the threshold to block his way.

"Excuse me," he muttered awkwardly.

"I'm sorry! That was...I'm really sorry." She looked up at his face under the bill of his cap. Startled, she blurted, "Wow. You have really pretty eyes."

Ronnie ducked his head shyly at the compliment.

"And I'm _really_ old," Kitty added. "I'll be twenty in September."

His gaze slid down over her body. "You don't even look old enough to drive, let alone-"

"What?" she whispered, stepping closer. "Old enough to what?"

Then Al's footsteps approached, and Kitty jumped back before the large man made it through the door.

"Bye, guys!" she trilled, mouthing the drinking straw. She was gratified to see Ronnie sneak a glimpse of her before he disappeared around the far side of the truck.

Kitty finished her drink and headed back into the store. She wanted to snag a copy of a certain book by Nabokov before her break ended...

*****

A/N: Future chapters _will_ contain smut with a possibly high ick factor. This story is not meant to treat pedophilia lightly in any way or suggest that it is merely a kink. Pedophilia is a serious psychiatric condition. However, the characters in my story (both consenting adults) will _role-play_ an adult/child romance. If this disturbs you, please do not read further. -ab


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Rated **M** for "**M**an, that's creepy."

******

Kitty was studying under a tree when he found her.

She had made herself easy to find, having seen him ride his bike past the park on his way home. Ronnie made a wide loop and circled back through the grass. She waved to him.

"Hey," he said, leaning on one foot. He removed his ball cap to swat a dive-bombing mosquito.

Kitty put a hand in front of her mouth to cover a smile.

"Don't do that," Ronnie begged quickly. He dismounted and laid his bike on its side. "Don't cover your smile."

She did not have to summon a blush; the color rose naturally to her face. She drew her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs.

"What are you working on? Stuff for school?" He leaned over to peer at her books.

"Math," Kitty answered, groaning. "I hate it!"

Ronnie hooked his cap on one bike grip. "Really? I'm, uh, actually kinda good at math. Want some help?"

"Seriously?"

He settled cross-legged on the ground next to her. "Uh, yeah. I...used to work with computers. You know, programming."

Kitty ignored the 'used to' and dug into her pocket for her pot of lip balm. She massaged it onto her lips with her ring-finger. It had a strong, fake-cherry smell.

Ronnie watched, transfixed.

She picked up her notebook and turned the problem she was working on toward him. "Can you help with this one?" Kitty asked, leaning in. He smelled like sweat and cardboard and laundry detergent. His lips were parted, and she noticed he had a slight overbite. It was sweet.

"Uhm, yeah, here, I'll show you," Ronnie stuttered, seeming unsure whether to look at the paper or her. "Do you have a pencil?"

She handed him the pink sparkly pencil she had been using. "It's 'Hello Kitty'," she explained shyly. "Like me."

"Hello, Kitty," he joked. His eyes flicked up to see if she had gotten it.

She giggled, blushing again.

Ronnie dragged his gaze down to the notepaper and looked over her work. He frowned. "No, that's inverse, see? So it's _one over_ sine theta." His voice was gentle as he guided her through the math problem.

Kitty looked up when he had finished explaining. "You're a really good teacher, you know that?" She rested her small hand on his knee. "I totally get it now. Thanks!"

He dropped the pencil. It bounced off her notebook and rolled into the grass. Grimacing at his clumsiness, Ronnie leaned over to retrieve the writing instrument. At the same time, Kitty straightened her leg and used her foot to nudge a book right into the path of his questing hand. It was her copy of Lolita. Ronnie froze when he saw it.

"Ronnie," she asked. "How old are you? I asked you the other day, but you didn't answer me."

He sat up again, clutching the pencil, but his eyes were on the novel. "I'm forty-seven," he sighed.

"Man, you're, like, old enough to be my dad."

His blue eyes swung toward her.

"But you're way cooler than my dad," she added, drawing circles on his knee with her thumb. "Hey, do you like Harry Potter?"

Ronnie blinked at the _non sequitur_.

Kitty fidgeted under his gaze. "I just got the new one on DVD, and I was gonna watch it tonight, and I thought maybe you'd like to come over and watch it with me. If you like Harry Potter, I mean."

"What about your dad?"

"What about him?" She shrugged. "He'll be upstairs watching sports and drinking. We can watch the movie in the basement rec room. He won't care."

Something about Ronnie's face went oddly slack. "And your mom?"

Kitty started to pack up her books. "My mom died a few years ago," she responded. Her voice quavered ever so slightly.

"That's...I'm sorry."

She smiled wistfully at him. "So you want to?"

*******

"Ooh, Lord Voldemort's face is so creepy!" she squealed, burrowing into his side. Ronnie chuckled and wrapped his arm around her. Kitty snuggled against him. He stroked her hair, toying with the colorful clips that restrained her reddish-blonde locks.

"Do you think Hermione's pretty?" she asked after a moment. "The actress, I mean."

Ronnie peered at the image of Emma Watson on the television. "Why do you ask?"

"Everybody thinks she's really pretty." Her voice was muffled by his shirt.

"Who's everybody?" he murmured into her hair.

Kitty shrugged, and every inch of the movement translated itself from her to Ronnie. "Boys, I guess."

"Do you care what boys think?"

"No," she giggled. Her breath was hot against his chest. "I'm asking what _you _think."

"I'm a boy," Ronnie teased.

She sighed with frustration. "You know what I mean!"

"Well, if you're asking me-"

"Which I _am_!"

"-which you _are,_ I'd say that you're way too pretty to be worrying about what other girls look like."

Kitty raised her head and planted a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth, then ducked back against his chest. Ronnie slipped his tongue out to explore the spot where she had kissed him. It tasted like cherry lipgloss. He sat frozen for a moment.

"Oh!" Kitty exclaimed. "There's Voldemort again!"

Ronnie pulled her on top of him. "Here, sit on my lap. I can protect you better that way."

Kitty helped him scoot her into his lap.

"Face forward. There. Just watch the movie. I'm here."

Ronnie tugged her hips backward until she was sitting on something hard.

In the semi-darkness, Kitty bit the inside of her cheek to prevent a smile. "Ronnie, what's-"

"It's nothing, baby. Watch the movie."

****

A/N: Thanks to those who are sticking with as we venture into the heart of darkness...


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Rated **M** for "**M**asturbation." LOL

******

She waited two days, then called the number he had entered into her cellphone after the movie. A woman's voice answered.

_His mother_.

"Hi, is Ronnie there, please?"

"Who is this?" Mrs. McGorvey's voice was steely.

Kitty took a deep breath and put on her phone voice. "Mrs. McGorvey? Hi, I'm Kitty. I'm a friend of Ronnie's. From work?" Whoops. She had not wanted the last statement to sound like a question.

There was a beat.

"Just a moment." The sound of a hand covering the mouthpiece, then Mrs. McGorvey calling, "Ronnie, phone. It's a girl named Kitty for you."

His voice on the phone, almost immediately. "Uh, Kitty, hi."

"Hey, Ronnie. Did I, uhm, did I get you in trouble?" Kitty tried to broadcast her shy smile through the phone. She imagined him standing in the kitchen with one hand in his pocket, struggling to look casual while his mother washed dishes nearby, one ear out for his half of their conversation.

"No, no!" he protested, nervously cheerful. "Uh, what's up?"

"Well, it's trig. I really don't get what we were going over in class today. Do you think you could help me with the homework?"

"Sure. Uh, when would be a good time?"

"How about tomorrow night?" Kitty decided to play her trump card. "My dad has to leave town on business tomorrow. I hate being all alone in the house after dark, so it would be a big favor if you could come over and keep me company for a while. And we could work on the trig. Do you mind? I don't want to be a bother."

"No, Kitty. It's no bother. I could come by around...eight?"

"Oh, that sounds great, Ronnie. Thanks so much. I'll see you then!'

"Okay, Kitty. Bye."

"Bye, Ronnie." She flipped her cellphone shut, wishing she could be a fly on the wall of the McGorvey household right about now.

*******

Moths flapped around the porch light when Kitty answered the door. Ronnie's blue eyes were shining in the early dusk.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Hey! Come on in." She opened the door wider to allow him to enter. "You mom sounded kinda angry on the phone last night. I'm sorry about that."

Ronnie shrugged. "We get a lot of prank calls," he said simply.

"Yeah. Guess so." Impulsively, Kitty hugged him around the midsection. "I'm glad you're here anyway." She took his hand and pulled him into the kitchen. Her books were spread out on the table. "You want a soda or something? Hungry?"

Ronnie shook his head, smiling. "No. No, I'm fine. I like your t-shirt." He used the hand she was not holding to point at the cartoon tyrannosaurus from whose mouth spilled a speech bubble containing the word "RAWR".

"You probably liked dinosaurs when you were a kid," she guessed, swinging his hand. She made no move to sit down at the table.

"I _loved_ dinosaurs," Ronnie admitted. "I would go dig for bones in the backyard. Mommy would get so mad."

Kitty giggled.

"She was really curious about you last night," he added in a more serious tone. "Asked me lots of questions."

"What did you tell her?"

"Well," Ronnie began, taking a seat in one of the kitchen chairs and drawing her forward until she stood between his knees, "I told her you were a magical princess enslaved by the evil book wizard and that, disguised as a delivery man, I was going to use the powers of trigonometry to set you free from his spell."

"And what did she say to that?" Kitty asked, laughing.

Ronnie's eyes dimmed and wandered around the kitchen. The corner of his mouth quirked down.

Kitty settled herself on his knee and put her arms around his neck. Looking back at her, he smiled and adjusted her, draping her legs across his lap. "If I'm a princess," she wondered, "does that make you a prince?"

Something dark passed behind his eyes, and his jaw hardened.

She leaned into his ear and whispered, "I feel safe when I'm with you, Ronnie."

He dragged in a deep, shuddering breath.

Kitty wriggled in closer to his body, hugging him tight. His hand squeezed her thigh. She could feel his erection pressing against her.

"That's your thing, isn't it?" she murmured.

"What?" he breathed.

She rubbed her buttock on the spot where she could feel his desire for her. "That."

He was silent for what felt like an eternity. Then he said, "Yes." His voice was so soft that he might not even have spoken.

"I've never seen one before," Kitty ventured.

Ronnie frowned. "You're lying."

"I am?" she challenged.

He stared into her eyes for a long moment. She held her breath. Maybe she would not be able to pull this off after all. Maybe he would not buy it.

"Do you want to see mine?" he asked finally.

She giggled softly, blushing. "Yeah."

He looked around the kitchen. "Your dad's gone, right?"

"He's gone, silly!"

"Because this is our secret. Just between you and me." His grip on her thigh was almost painful.

Kitty nodded eagerly.

"I'd be really mad if you told."

"I won't tell. Cross my heart!" she promised, echoing her words with the action. He watched with obvious interest as her finger trailed over the spot between her tiny breasts. "Just between you and me. Please, Ronnie!" She covered his cheek with kisses.

"Okay!" he laughed, pushing her back toward his knees. His hand slid between them and unzipped his jeans. Her eyes, wide and expectant, flicked from his face to his lap and back again. His fingers parted the fly of his underwear.

Kitty bit her lower lip as she looked at _it._ "Bigger than I thought," she commented quietly.

Ronnie grinned. He was massaging it gently.

"Can I...?" She put her hand toward it.

"Yeah," he breathed.

Kitty touched it softly. "It's...silky," she murmured wonderingly.

Ronnie curved her small hand firmly around it. He squeezed her fingers tight and guided them up and down. His eyelids fluttered shut.

"Does that hurt?" she gasped.

He shook his head.

"It feels good?" Kitty asked.

Ronnie opened his eyes. His hand continued to work hers up and down, up and down. "Fffffuck," he hissed. "That feels good."

Kitty giggled with shock at the swear word. "Ronnie!"

A slow smile crept over his face. "That's a bad word, isn't it?" Their hands moved faster.

"A really bad word," she breathed.

"But you're a good girl, aren't you, Kitty?"

"Yes, Ronnie."

His breath was coming fast. He leaned forward, the fingers of his left hand digging into her hip.

"Say you're my good girl."

"I'm your good girl, Ronnie."

With a gasp, he shuddered, his hand almost crushing her small one in its frenzied labor.

"I'm your good girl," she repeated.

Ronnie groaned, and white fluid splattered her t-shirt. Kitty put up her left hand to cover her laughter.

"What's so funny?" he panted, but he was smiling. He looked down at her shirt. "Oh. Poor dinosaur."

Kitty's hilarity escaped, and she collapsed into giggles.

"That wasn't exactly the reaction I was hoping for," Ronnie commented mildly.

"Are you okay?" she asked finally, wiping tears from her eyes. She gestured down at the mess.

"That was supposed to happen," he assured her, tucking himself away. "You were such a good girl, Kitty."

She grinned and kissed his nose. "I have to clean my shirt, 'kay?" Standing up, she went to the sink. "Turn around!" she insisted, twirling her finger at him as she lifted the hem of her tee.

"I showed you mine," Ronnie complained.

Kitty took a deep breath, as if she were about to plunge into a cold pool. Then she pulled her t-shirt over her head. She stood nervously before him in shorts and a training bra. Ronnie's gaze devoured her soft, fair flesh. His eyes lingered on the white cotton bra; her pointy nipples poke through the fabric. She squirmed, embarrassed.

"I'm barely an A-cup," she admitted.

He shook his head, lips parted. "Take it off," he begged. "Please."

Kitty ducked her head. "Our secret?" she asked shyly.

"Yes. Just between you and me."

To be continued... ;P 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Definitely rated M. Oh, and I'm going to hell for this.

******

Kitty looked around the kitchen. "Not here!" she protested. "Come on. Let's go get me another shirt." Leaving the soiled tee in the sink, she came around the table and took his hand.

"Where are we going?" he asked as Kitty hauled him up the stairs.

"My room," she answered simply.

Ronnie stumbled on a riser.

"You okay?" She looked back, worried.

"Yeah. Good," he muttered.

"Come _on _then!"

Kitty flipped on the light to reveal a small, cheerful room filled with white wicker furniture. It was relatively clean, although there were books all over the floor in one corner. Kitty's apron from the bookstore was slung over the back of the desk chair. She plopped him down on the pink quilted bedspread.

"This is the room you grew up in?" he asked, looking around. He picked up a pig from the pile of stuffed animals on her bed and made its head nod with his fingers.

"No, we moved when I was in..." she paused to think, "...second grade."

Ronnie made the pig shake its head.

She went to the closet and pulled out a shirt.

"Hey," he said, before she could pull it on. "I thought we had a deal."

Kitty set the fresh tee down on her dresser. "Serious? You really want me to?"

"Well, if _you_ don't want to..." he grumbled. Looking downcast, he threw the stuffed pig back amongst its comrades.

"No," she said firmly. "I'll do it." She reached behind her back and unfastened the clasp, then drew the training bra down over her arms. Her nipples were small, pink, and puffy.

Ronnie put a hand over his mouth.

"What's wrong?" Kitty asked worriedly. She crossed her arms over her chest.

He gestured her silently toward him. She approached, and he pulled her arms gently to her sides. His tongue snaked out to moisten his lips as he drank in the sight of her. At last his eyes slid up to meet hers.

"Hi," she said awkwardly.

Ronnie leaned forward and blew a raspberry on her belly. Kitty giggled and tugged away. He held her tight, tickling her ribs. With a sudden effort, he threw her onto the bed and held her down to continue his attack. She laughed uncontrollably, gasping for breath.

"Stop!" she begged between peals of laughter. "Stop!"

"You want me to stop?" he asked, growling like an ogre. His fingers began to unbutton her shorts. His lips were kissing now instead of buzzing. He looked up to gauge her mood.

Kitty stroked his widow's peak. "This is bad, what we're doing. Isn't it?"

"Does it _feel_ bad?" he asked, his lips moving against her skin.

"No. It feels good."

Ronnie smiled. "Does..._this _feel good?" He kissed the peak of her lowest rib.

"Yes," she giggled.

"Does..._this _feel good?" He kissed the valley between her breasts.

"Mhm," she answered, nodding.

"And this?" He kissed one pink nipple.

"That tickles," Kitty said in a very serious tone.

"Is it a good tickle?" Ronnie asked. He kissed her other nipple, just in case she needed a point of reference. The small pink bud shrank and tightened at the touch of his lips.

"Yes," she breathed.

"Tell me what it feels like," he murmured, closing his mouth around the contracted nipple.

"It feels like...oh!" She cried out as his tongue stroked her. "...electric. It makes me feel all warm."

"Warm where?"

Kitty gasped every time he licked her. Ronnie was being ever so gentle.

"You know where. Like I have to pee. I hate this feeling!"

"You hate it?" he repeated.

"I feel all wiggly, and nothing helps."

"'Wiggly', huh? I bet I can make it better." He trailed down her ribcage to her belly and began to pull her shorts off. "Like kissing a boo-boo."

Kitty pulled a face. "You're going to kiss me _down there_?"

"It'll help. I promise. Do you trust me?"

"I trust you, Ronnie."

He tugged her light blue cotton underpants down her legs. His eyes were immediately riveted by her smooth, hairless mound. Kitty had shaved only an hour before, but Ronnie did not need to know that. She clamped her thighs together.

"Don't be embarrassed!" he insisted. "You're beautiful. You're so beautiful." His eyes roamed over her naked body. He reached up and stroked her nipple with his thumb.

Kitty twisted, moaning in frustration.

"Still feel 'wiggly'?" Ronnie teased. "Let me kiss it better."

"Ohhh...okay," she whined, miserably capitulating to his probing hands. Her knees fell apart. She covered her eyes and turned her face away.

Ronnie shushed her comfortingly and kissed the inside of her thigh. "This is gonna feel so good, baby," he whispered. Leaning in, he licked her decisively.

Kitty squealed with shock and pleasure. She tried to scurry away, but he held her legs.

"Relax," he murmured. "Relax. Just enjoy it."

She froze and held her breath.

Ronnie bent his head and licked her again. "Christ, they oughta make ice cream that tastes like you," he groaned. He kissed her tender flesh, running his tongue along the wet folds.

Kitty moaned and clutched at the bedspread, but Ronnie was unrelenting. He assailed her with his mouth. She struggled, and he held her in place.

"Ronnie...I...something's..." she gasped, and then the frantic pleasure wracked her, and she wailed with the release. She was still shuddering when he flipped her over and unfastened his pants. For a moment Kitty's eyes went wide with concern, but then she felt him slide into the crease of her buttocks, which was slick with his saliva and her juices. He rubbed himself desperately between the mounds of flesh, and soon he too came undone, warm fluid splattering her back and Ronnie gasping her name.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Rated M, fo' sho'. Being in Ronnie's head is weird. Actually, Kitty's too.

******

Kitty lay facedown on her bed, luxuriating in the afterglow of her orgasm and his lust.

"Are you okay?" Ronnie ventured quietly.

Kitty turned her head to see the expression on his face, propping herself on one elbow. He looked terribly sad.

"What's wrong?" she asked. She wrinkled her nose at the sensation of his cooling ejaculate sliding down her back. "Ew. I think I need a bath. Wanna help?"

His face brightened considerably at this suggestion.

Kitty punched him lightly and made a dash for the hall bathroom. When Ronnie chased her down, laughing, she was already crouching in the tub, her hand on the spigot. He knelt by the side of the tub to wipe the fluid off her back. He watched it swirl down the drain with the rushing water.

"Ooh, that's hot!" he warned, frowning, as he stuck his hand under the faucet.

"I like it hot." Kitty grinned and put down the stopper. She added some bubble bath oil to the water. Then she turned to face him. "Hi."

"Hi," Ronnie responded.

"Are you mad at me, Ronnie?" she asked.

He scoffed. "How could I ever be mad at you?"

Kitty stroked the lapel of his shirt. "So why are you upset?"

"What makes you say I'm upset?"

She stared at him.

Ronnie sniffed and looked down. "It's not you, Kitty. I'm mad at myself."

"Why?"

He shrugged wretchedly. "I promised Mommy I'd be a good boy."

"Aren't you being good?"

He coughed up a bitter laugh.

"Are we doing something wrong?" Kitty cocked her head and held his gaze. "If someone walked in here right now, what are we doing wrong? If my father walked in? Your _mother_?"

Ronnie winced.

"Would it be awkward? Yeah," she admitted, flashing her eyebrows. "But are we doing anything to tell your P.O. about?"

He looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time.

Kitty handed him a washrag. "Do my back?"

After a moment, Ronnie nodded. "Turn around."

Grinning, she faced away from him. He switched off the faucet, then dipped the flannel in the hot water and scrubbed her back. She hummed with pleasure. Kitty felt herself relaxing under the rough, wet heat. Laying the cloth flat over his hand, Ronnie contrived to both wash and grope her simultaneously. He reached around to her front and bathed each small breast with great attention. She leaned her head forward contentedly; locks of her bobbed hair flopped on her cheeks. She moaned softly, feeling his lips press against the nape of her neck.

"Stand up."

Kitty rose. Water and bubbles cascaded down her legs. Ronnie raised himself up to sit on the edge of the bathtub. Holding her hip with one hand, he pressed lightly on her spine to bend her forward.

"Ronnie-" she murmured nervously.

"Hush, hush. I'm just gonna wash you."

Cautiously, Kitty leaned over and rested her palms on the cool tiled wall. She felt him slide the washcloth between her buttocks. She squirmed.

"Beautiful little girl," Ronnie whispered.

Kitty could feel his breath on her bottom, then his face. Suddenly his tongue darted out to lick her rear passage. She gasped. He chuckled and grasped her hip tighter. He explored the tender opening gently. She choked back a squeal at the bizarre sensation. At last he relented.

"You don't like that?" he asked, now focusing with the washcloth on her slick, pink folds.

"I don't know," Kitty said slowly. "I would tell you if I _definitely _didn't like it."

Ronnie rubbed the flannel over her still-sensitive nub, and she startled. She turned her head to catch him grinning. "Does that mean that you've, uh, liked everything so far?"

She nodded.

"Really?"

"Well, it's better than trig," she teased.

Ronnie splashed her. "Come on, you. Out." He pulled a towel down off the bar and embraced her with it. Kitty stepped over the edge onto the bathmat. He began to dry her briskly.

"Ronnie, where's your dad?" Kitty asked after a moment.

His eyes flicked up to her face, then he returned his attentions to her legs. "My real dad? He left me and Mommy when I was three."

"And you never saw him again?"

Ronnie wiped the water droplets off the tops of her feet. "Saw him a couple of times. But then Mommy got married again."

Kitty took a deep breath. "And _he_'s the one that touched you?"

Ronnie froze in place as if turned to stone. Finally he closed his eyes. "What do you mean?" he muttered.

She stroked the back of his head. "I may not be good at math, Ronnie, but I'm not stupid."

"I...didn't, uh...I didn't want to talk to you about that," he said, opening his eyes and returning to the toweling process.

"I can handle it, baby." Kitty tilted his chin up until his gaze met hers. "I can."

Ronnie blew air out through loose cheeks. "Yeah, I think you can."


	6. Chapter 6

It was dopey, she knew, but she had set his phone number to a special ringtone: "Pocketful of Sunshine" by Natasha Bedingfield. Barely an hour had passed since he left when Kitty heard her cell chirping merrily. She flopped down onto her bed and answered the phone.

"Hey."

"Kitty. Hey. I...uh...just wanted to say 'goodnight'."

"You said 'goodnight' when you left," she pointed out, smiling.

"Well, yeah, but...uh...I thought I should make sure you're okay. By yourself in the house at night, I mean."

"Uhm." Kitty looked around her room. "No axe murderers yet."

"Oh. Good..."

"Ok, what did your mom say? The suspense is killing me!"

Ronnie chuckled. "She wants you to come over for dinner Friday night."

"Omigodseriously? Ack!"

"Yeah. Around 6:30?"

"Okay, sure," Kitty answered faintly. "Should I bring something?"

"I dunno...yes? I'll ask Mommy tomorrow."

Kitty cursed inaudibly. "What am I gonna _wear_?" She stared at her closet as if a well-advised ensemble might spontaneously burst forth.

"Hey...I miss you."

"I can smell you on my _bed_," she replied, turning her face into the quilt to inhale his scent.

His soft chuckle sent a thrill through her.

"Ronnie?"

"Yeah?'

"That stuff we were talking about earlier? About your step-father?"

Ronnie cleared his throat. "Uhm, yeah?"

"Does your mom know about that?"

"Uh, well, she didn't." She heard him shift the phone to his other ear. "But I had to talk about it with her as part of my, y'know, therapy."

"So, like, forty years? That's a long time to keep a secret, Ronnie."

"Uh," he laughed awkwardly. "There were a few that I was keeping."

Kitty shut her eyes and took a deep breath. _How bad?_ she imagined herself asking. _How bad did it get_? _How many kids?_

_I don't want to know._

"Kitty."

"Yeah?"

"Are you still there?"

"I'm here."

"Good."

It was past two a.m. before he said 'good night' for the final tim.

******

On Friday night, Kitty tripped up the walk to the McGorvey house in low-heeled espadrilles. The knee-length denim skirt, tank top, and zippered hoodie was the fourth outfit she had tried on in front of the large mirror in her room. She rang the doorbell and waited nervously.

May McGorvey opened the door, took one look at Kitty, and stomped off into the kitchen, leaving the front door swinging wide on its hinges.

_Oh, shit_, Kitty thought. _There it is._

Ronnie was coming down the stairs. Startled by his mother's behavior, he looked at Kitty and then made as if to follow Mommy. Kitty put up a hand.

"It may be time for some girl talk. I'll be back, ok?"

Ronnie shrugged uneasily, but he did not stop her when she walked into the kitchen.

May stood at the sink, head bowed, gripping the edge of the counter feverishly.

"Hello, Mrs. McGorvey," Kitty announced, striding up to her. "I'm Kitty Brigidson. It's nice to meet you." She held out the tulips she had brought.

The older woman looked at the flowers briefly, then turned her face back toward the sink.

"Mrs. McGorvey, come on," Kitty said urgently. "What did you expect? A forty-five-year-old divorcee with a smoker's cough?"

May's eyes drifted toward Kitty's face.

"I know that I'm not what you wanted for Ronnie-"

"How old are you?" May whispered.

Kitty hesitated. "I'll be twenty in September."

If May McGorvey still had any delusions of Catholic religiosity, she might have crossed herself. Instead she just threw up her hands.

"I _know_!" Kitty protested. "But this thing between Ronnie and me: it works. It really does."

May pinned Kitty with her gaze. "Help me understand."

The strawberry-blonde shifted uneasily. "I don't...I'm sorry, I don't know what you want me to say, Mrs. McGorvey."

The older woman leaned heavily on the countertop. She gestured at the living room with her chin. "What do you want with a man like that?"

Kitty clapped her hand over her mouth in shock. She searched May's eyes for a long moment.

"At first," she began, "I wanted him because he wanted me. I don't know if that means anything to you, Mrs. McGorvey." Her anguished expression begged for understanding. "But now...he's sweet, and he's funny, and..."

"You'll break his heart."

Kitty shook her head. "Not before he breaks mine," she retorted wistfully.

May stared at her.

"Mrs. McGorvey, I know this thing between him and me has an expiration date. This body won't hold him forever. But it can hold him for a little while. And I..." Words failed her.

The older woman sighed and took the tulips from her hand. "I'll put these in some water, honey. Then we'll get this food on the table."

****

A/N: No smut in this one; sorry. And sorry if I ruined that Natasha Bedingfield song for you. LOL -ab


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Doesn't start out this way, but it's seriously **M**. I do not own the McGorveys. I lay no claim to the music of Ashlee Simpson (yeah, I know) or Beth Orton (whose song appears in this chapter courtesy of JEH's role in "All the King's Men"). Sorry if this is getting song-ficcy; I'll try to keep it to a minimum.

****

"Be a gentleman, Ronnie, and walk her out to her car."

He put his hand in the small of Kitty's back and ushered her out the door, pulling a comical face that his mother could not see. Kitty giggled.

"So what have you learned about my son?" May had asked her at the dinner table.

"That he's a lot better-looking than his mugshot," Kitty had joked too quickly, wishing she could recall the words as soon as they passed her lips.

But May had chortled uproariously and waggled her finger at Ronnie. "I think I like her!"

Ronnie had smiled at Kitty, chewing his beef contemplatively.

Now they stepped out into a summer night of streetlights and buzzing insects. Kitty leaned slightly toward Ronnie, enjoying the comfort of his touch on her back. Even in her espadrilles, she was still inches shorter than him. She stood on the edge of the curb and leaned against the crapped-out Blazer her dad let her use on the rare occasions when she drove somewhere. Ronnie grabbed the keys out of her hands.

"Hey!" she laughed.

He held them out behind him, well beyond her reach, then leaned his face toward hers. "I want a goodnight kiss," he announced.

Kitty looked away and blushed bashfully.

"What? You shy?" Ronnie asked, grinning.

"You just wanna show off," she teased.

He moved forward until his lips were only a hair's breadth from hers. She could feel the heat radiating off his body. He pressed his palm against the truck's door next to her.

"I don't wanna show off," he insisted. "I wanna kiss my girl."

Kitty put her hands on his cheeks. She traced the corner of his mouth with her thumb. "So kiss her already."

Ronnie brushed her lips with his own. The hand holding her keys drifted down to cup her hip. "Who am I showing off for, again?" he murmured, his wide blue eyes pinning her.

Her finger trailed idly over the rim of his ear. "For your mother...or the neighbors."

"Then I hope they're getting an eyeful." Ronnie claimed her mouth and kissed her deeply. Sighing, she parted her lips to accept his tongue eagerly. Tiny firestorms of desire crackled up and down her body. Kitty dragged her nails down his chest. He groaned and pressed closer, trapping her against the truck. She struggled not to grind her hips wantonly.

At last Ronnie released her mouth.

"Oh, god," she panted as he kissed her throat.

"You taste sweet. Like strawberries."

She laughed. "That's your mom's _pie_."

"You taste better," he insisted, shaking his head and grinning. "Which reminds me...did you like what we did in your room the other night?"

Kitty tucked her face into the crook of his neck, gripping his shirt in her little fists. "Yes," she whispered to his clavicle.

"Can we do that again?"

_Oh, fuck, yes_, Kitty thought. _Yes, please_. Warmth flooded her lower belly. "Uhm, if you want to," she said softly.

Ronnie pressed a kiss on her head. "Let's go for a little drive. Gonna run in the house for a second, but I'll be right back, ok?"

She nodded and commanded her hands to release his shirt. Reluctantly, they unclenched. Leaning back against the truck, Kitty watched him stride up the steps into the house. His movements were oddly graceful.

Ronnie reappeared moments later, stuffing his wallet into his back pocket. His eyes roved over her in an unmistakable manner. "You didn't leave." His voice carried in the warm night air.

"You have my keys," Kitty pointed out. She played with the zipper pull on her hoodie.

He jingled her keyring. She reached out for it, but he closed his hand around it. Guessing the game, Kitty stepped forward to place a quick kiss on his lips. Ronnie clasped his hands around her small one, depositing the keyring in her palm. She backed away and unlocked the Blazer. He pulled the door open for her, then jogged around to the passenger side to get in. Kitty turned the key in the ignition, and the truck groaned to life. Her mp3 player kicked on; Ashlee Simpson's "Lala" blasted from the speakers.

Kitty dove for the volume knob, mortified, and switched the song. "I was...in a good mood...coming over here," she explained lamely.

Judging by the expression on his face, Ronnie was not up on the latest pop songs about female lust. Unperturbed, he laid his arm across the back of her seat to stroke her neck as she pulled away from the curb. His eyes glowed faintly in the light from the streetlamps. He directed her to a parking lot a few blocks away: the public library's.

Kitty giggled. "Is this the big make-out spot in this part of town?" She switched off the engine and the lights, but left the key on accessory to let the music play.

Ronnie twined a lock of her hair around his finger. He cut his eyes toward the back of the Blazer. The ghost of a smile curved his lips. "Ladies first."

Without hesitation, she unbuckled her seatbelt and crawled between the bucket seats.

"Keep going."

Kitty clambered over the back seat into the cargo area. Her espadrille caught in an errant seatbelt, and she tumbled into the way-back like a sack of potatoes, her skirt hiked up on her thighs. Ronnie, laughing, joined her with slightly more aplomb. He sat facing the rear window and drew her onto his lap. She straddled him, trying not to seem too eager. His hands settled comfortably under her skirt and cupped her buttocks. He toyed with the edges of her panties.

"I liked it when you kissed me, Ronnie."

"On your mouth, you mean?" In the darkened vehicle, he could barely see her color with embarrassment or arousal. "I like making you blush."

Cautiously, Kitty placed her lips against his. He took charge of the kiss immediately, controlling her with his mouth. She yielded willingly and wrapped her arms around his neck. Ronnie buried his tongue inside her, as if he could possess her with this simple muscular invasion. His hands went to her hoodie, drawing down the zipper and wrestling the sweatshirt over her shoulders and down her arms. Her tank top suffered the same fate and fell crumpled on the cargo floor. Her bra was white with light pink polka dots; there was a little heart cut out of the corner of one cup. Ronnie released her mouth to trace his tongue along the outline of that cutout. She gasped at the sudden wet heat against her sensitive breast. Aroused by her pleasure, Ronnie fumbled at the clasp of her bra, at last managing to free her of the undergarment. His mouth sought her exposed nipple. Gripping his shoulders, Kitty cried out. She arched her back and thrust her tiny breasts at him.

Ronnie's hands returned to her hips. His thumb slipped inside her panties along the soft flesh at the top of her thigh.

"Christ, you're dripping," he gasped.

"Am I a bad girl, Ronnie? Are you angry?"

He buried his face in the hollow of her neck. "No, Kitty. You're a very good girl." Parting his knees, he leaned her backward. "Lift your hips. Yes, like that." He pulled the crotch of her panties to one side and stroked her with his thumb.

Kitty stiffened and moaned with pleasure.

"Such a pretty kitty," he wondered aloud, his voice husky. "Do you want me to lick you, pretty kitty?"

She bit her lip and hummed with frustration.

"Beg me."

"Please, Ronnie."

"'Please' what?" His thumb traced a maddening circle around her core.

"Please lick me," Kitty begged.

Mollified, Ronnie bent forward and made love to her with his tongue. She tilted her pelvis, parting her thighs as far as possible to welcome him. Suddenly he licked one particular nerve ending that sent her spiraling up. Kitty shrieked her intense need. He focused his attentions on that spot, and her muscles began to twitch with tension. She danced on the edge, and then the climax took her. She clapped her hands over her mouth to dampen her screams.

As she returned to earth, Kitty could hear him laughing with delight. She opened her eyes, trying to remember at what point she had closed them. Ronnie beamed down at her and lifted the edge of his shirt to wipe his mouth.

"I think I should be embarrassed," she gasped.

"What we're doing is not shameful," Ronnie said quietly but firmly. "Wasn't it you who told me that?"

Kitty struggled to sit up. "You made me beg," she muttered.

"I'll make you do more than that before we're done." Ronnie's eyes danced as he said it, but Kitty felt a dark thrill shoot through her.

She settled in a kneeling position between his thighs. Shyly, she reached her hand toward his groin. He watched her curiously when she touched the bulge in his pants. Kitty unzipped his fly. He made no move to stop her. Carefully, she freed his erection and stroked it like he had showed her.

The mp3 player was still going. "_Sugar boy,_" Beth Orton cooed, "_whatcha tryin' to do?_"

Licking her lips, Kitty murmured, "I want to try...can I...?"

In lieu of answering, Ronnie shifted his hips to allow her better access. She crouched down and kissed his member hesitantly. It twitched. Kitty startled, laughing with shock.

"It likes you," Ronnie growled, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire.

Again Kitty leaned in and placed her mouth on his erection. She licked it cautiously at first, like a popsicle. A drop of fluid escaped his tip. Emboldened, she lapped it up and then closed her lips around him.

"Such a good girl," he breathed. He let his head fall back. His hand hovered near her head, ready to encourage or discourage.

Kitty listened for his tiny gasps and moans, letting him guide her. Soon he was groaning with need. It took her a second to realize that she had abandoned the 'sweet thing' routine and was giving him a proper blowjob.

_Shit._

Shrugging mentally, she relaxed her throat and drew him in to the hilt. _Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb_, she reasoned.

When Ronnie shuddered and emptied herself into her mouth moments later, Kitty's jaw was sore with the effort and extent of her intentions. In other circumstances, she might have been proud of the work she had done. Now, however, she simply swallowed and awaited Ronnie's return to logical thought.

"How did you...?" he asked after a moment.

Kitty looked up at him, unable to keep the fear from her eyes. She tried to formulate a response,

_I lied to you Ronnie I'm no innocent little thing I lied I lied I just wanted you..._

but the words would not come. She listened blankly as the stereo played:

_Told you I loved you._

_You beat my heart black and blue._

_I told you I loved you._

_Now what more can I do?_

_D'you want me to lay down and die for you?_

"Someone...someone touched you too, isn't that it?" Ronnie asked, curling his hand around her cheek.

Kitty's mouth fell open.

"He taught you...that stuff, didn't he?" He smiled sadly at her. "It's okay, baby. You don't have to tell me about it. Not now."

Ronnie kissed her, and the taste of her sex mingled with the taste of his.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Short and angsty. Some VERY strong language toward the end. I do not own the character of Ronnie McGorvey or the music of Johnny Lang. (Sorry if you're getting sick of the musical pathetic fallacies...)

****

Kitty took a deep breath as Ronnie gathered her against him, cradling her between his knees. She tucked her head under his chin.

"Ronnie?" she murmured nervously.

"Mhm."

"You said earlier that I'm your girl. Is that true? Am I your girl?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "If...if you want to be."

Kitty snuggled against his chest. "I do. I wanna be your girl." Her voice dripped with anxiety.

"What is it?" he asked, turning her face up to him. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. His heart leapt into his throat. "Kitty, tell me."

"Nobody ever _touched_ me, Ronnie," she explained miserably. "Not like you mean. I can't let you believe that's what happened to me, because it didn't."

He ground his jaw, pondering this. "So you lied to me?"

"I...I thought I was giving you what you wanted."

"And what do I want?"

"Ronnie..."

"No, Kitty. I wanna know what you think I want."

"The girl that I was. Five, six years ago. That's who you saw in the bookstore. That's who you wanted."

Johnny Lang's guitar broke the silence in the truck.

"But that's not who you are," Ronnie said at last. It was partly a question.

"It is. And it isn't. But...I knew you wouldn't want me the way I am now."

"Why not?" he asked, frustration raising the pitch of his voice. "How are you now?"

_I don't want to be in love,  
but you're makin' me.  
Let me up. I've had enough.  
Girl, you're breakin' me._

Her eyes seemed huge in the darkness. "Jesus, Ronnie, did you really think I was a virgin?"

He closed his eyes and turned his head. "It wasn't your fault. They took advantage of you."

"I _let_ them take advantage of me. I thought...I thought it was what I wanted. But, Ronnie, it's different with you! When I was with those other guys, it took me out of myself. It was like I was floating above, watching what was going on. But _you_...oh, god, please look at me."

Ronnie opened his eyes and turned a baleful gaze on her.

_I don't want to be alone,  
thinkin' 'bout you, girl.  
But I've got nothin' left to hold  
in my lonely world._

"How many?" he demanded.

Her face crumpled.

"How many guys did you let FUCK YOU?" he bellowed, the rage boiling out of him.

"Goddamnit, Ronnie," she sobbed.

He grabbed her upper arms and shook her. "How many? Huh? TELL ME!"

Kitty wrested herself out of his grasp and scooted across the cargo area, eyes wild, until she bumped up against the tire well. Her arms flew instinctively up to cover her face. She knocked her head miserably against the cool glass of the window. She heard Ronnie scramble to the back door and wrench it open. His shoes crunched on the asphalt. He stared through the open hatch at her.

"Christ, I'm an idiot. 'Never seen one before', my ass! How many cocks have you sucked?"

Kitty whirled to face him. The cargo floor was gritty under her fingers.

"How many? You want to know how many?" she hissed. "Yeah, ok, let's talk numbers. How many girls have had to give you handjobs over the years? How many _children_ has it taken to make you feel like a man?"

Ronnie tilted his head back slightly, as if struck, and Kitty heard the dark, clanging echo made by words that can never be taken back. She clapped a hand over her mouth. She could see herself very clearly all of a sudden: a half-naked slut weeping in a library parking lot, the semen of a pedophile more than twenty-five years her senior sliding down her gullet.

And Johnny Lang wailed:

_I know you lost your faith in me,  
but I still believe.  
Can I make you understand?  
Can I make you see?  
I am desperate for your love,  
and it's breakin' me._


	9. Chapter 9

"Ronnie? Son?" From the top of the stairs, May stared at her only child kicking the bottom step violently. Her heart sank at the pain written on his face. "What happened? Where's Kitty?"

Ronnie smacked the banister with the flat of his hand. "Don't know. Don't care," he replied, grinding his jaw.

She clutched her robe together at the throat. "What happened?" she repeated nervously.

Her son shook his head. "It's complicated, Mommy."

May sighed. "Yeah, I figured. Come on in the kitchen, and I'll make you some tea." She started down the stairs.

"I don't want any tea, Mommy," he protested as she passed him, but he trailed her into the kitchen anyway to hover behind one of the chairs, hands wrapped around the top rung of the ladderback.

"Sit down, Ronnie. You're making me nervous."

He slumped into the chair and, resting his elbows on the tabletop, put his face in his hands. May puttered around him. She put on the kettle and took out teacups, then added a liberal dollop of milk and sugar to Ronnie's mug. In went the teabags. She studied her morose son while she waited for the kettle to whistle. After a moment Ronnie sat up and rubbed his swollen eyes with the heels of his hands. His eyes settled on the tulips Kitty had brought.

The kettle shrieked, and May added water to the mugs.

"All right, young man," May said firmly, placing Ronnie's mug before him and taking a seat across from him. "Will you _please_ tell me what is going on?"

Ronnie toyed with the tag hanging over the edge of his cup. "I told you, Mommy: it's complicated."

"So explain it to me. You're good at explaining things, son."

"Yeah, that's what _she_ told me."

May rose to fetch a saucer for the teabags. "I knew she was a smart girl."

"_Too_ smart," Ronnie muttered. He withdrew his sopping teabag and placed it carefully on the dish. "She's, uh, she's been lying to me, Mommy."

May's heart clenched a little at the break in his voice. Then something occurred to her. She tilted her head nervously. "Ronnie, she told me she was nineteen. Is-"

"No, Mommy. Jesus! That's not...that's not the problem."

"Oh, okay," she said, subsiding. She blew on her tea and took a sip. "So what _is_ the problem?"

Ronnie fidgeted. "She told me that she's never really...had a boyfriend." His eyes were fixed on his tea.

May lowered her mug. "And?"

"And it turns out she _has_ had boyfriends. Several."

His mother's jaw dropped, and she set her mug on the table. "Ronald James, are you telling me that all this hoopla is because you found out this wasn't Kitty's first time at the rodeo? Good heavens, I've only known the child for a few hours, and I could have told you _that_."

"Mommy, you don't under-"

"No, Ronnie, I _do_ understand. You men are all the same! You want to be first in line at the trough."

Ronnie was taken aback. He stared at his mother.

"If you're going to date a grown woman, even if she is _barely_ grown, you're going to have to appreciate that she has a past from before she met you. You, of all people, should understand that!"

"So, just because I'm not perfect, I should accept the fact that she's been with god-knows-how-many guys?" he blustered.

May shook her head sternly. "You're not perfect, Ronnie. Neither am I. Neither is she. But you accept her flaws because that's what you do when you love someone!"

He cupped his hands around his mug, chastened, and took a sip of tea. Somehow, the sweet, milky flavor reminded him of the way Kitty's skin smelled. He felt tears pricking his eyes again.

His mother peered at him keenly over her glasses. Then she smiled and reached out to take his hand.

"Son, I saw something in your face today that I haven't seen since you were a little boy. After...well, after the last few years, I wasn't sure that I'd ever see it again. That girl makes you happy, Ronnie. Don't dismiss that. No matter _whose_ boots have been under her bed."

Ronnie chewed his thumbnail. "I don't even know if she really likes me, Mommy," he said quietly.

May snorted. "That girl's crazy about you," she assured him.

"Not anymore," he sighed. He stared down into the milky clouds of his tea, hearing in his memory the very words he had used to hurt Kitty. He remembered the look on her face as she had spat her parting words at him. "Not after the stuff I said to her. Oh, hell, Mommy, I really screwed up."

"Guess you better work _really_ hard to get her back, then."

Ronnie's eyes went to the phone.

"Think I'll finish my tea upstairs." May rose and kissed her son on the head. "Good luck, sweetheart."

*******

Kitty was sitting in her bathtub, fully dressed. Her bare legs squeaked against the dry fiberglass when she shifted, but this was not a primary concern for her. She was, however, worried that she might actually vomit if she could not stop crying so hard.

_Stupid stupid stupid..._

She grabbed a hank of her hair and tugged. She pulled it a second time, harder.

_Dad will freak if I go after it with scissors again_.

It has been more than two years since she had chopped off her long, youthful locks in a fit of rage and pain. The hairdresser had clipped it all the way to a pixie-cut to repair the damage. Only in the last year had Kitty been able to wear it long enough to put clips in.

_I could just pull a Britney and shave it all off this time_, she mused.

A tinny version of "Pocketful of Sunshine" sang out.

Kitty sniffled and turned her head toward the bedroom, where her cell lay. In treacherous Pavlovian response, her heart began to pound excitedly. She clutched the hem of her skirt and waited for the ringing to stop.

Silence.

She hiccoughed, trying to slow her breath.

Beep.

Kitty squinched her eyes shut and ignored the voicemail. Her head was stuffed up from crying, so she decided to take a shower. Stepping out of the tub momentarily, she unbuckled her shoes and stripped off her clothes. She turned on the tap and stepped back in. Water. Shampoo. Soap. Razor. The hot water cleared her head. Kitty washed off all trace of Ronnie McGorvey.

Two towels: one twisted around her hair, the other wrapping her torso.

Beep.

Kitty leaned toward the steamy mirror and examined her face for blemishes. She brushed her teeth.

Beep.

Removing the towel from her head, she dried her hair, then combed it out. She changed into boxers and a t-shirt.

Beep.

Her eyes strayed toward the cell phone on her desk.

_Shit_. _Shit shit shit_.

Kitty flipped open the phone and called her voicemail.

*****

A/N: My original posting had Ronnie's middle name as 'Joseph' (since I only knew it started with J, I borrowed Rorschach's middle name), but it turns out to be 'James'. Thanks to Lady Jekyll for that catch. -ab


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: This chapter is longer and has a very, uhm, limey scene. Possible squick? No actual children, of course.

I held off on this chapter until I'd read Tom Perrotta's book (which is wonderful – I wholeheartedly recommend it). I had hoped to get some details on Ronnie's character, but I abandoned that plan halfway through the novel. Perrotta's Ronnie is so unlike the one in the film as to be almost a different character. Where JEH's Ronnie is vulnerable, Perrotta's is harsh. JEH's humor is wry, whereas Perrotta's Ronnie reads as bitter and sarcastic. Further, the book implicates Ronnie in the murder of a young girl (which doesn't make sense to me from a psychological point of view, but I ain't Tom Perrotta). That said, I stand by my Ronnie as the Ronnie devised by JEH and director Todd Field. I neither care, nor intend, to write Perrotta's Ronnie.

The line about the past and future is shamelessly cribbed from the film script.

******

Kitty flipped open the phone and called her voicemail.

"You have...one...new message."

"Hi."

His voice was soft, like he was whispering. She could barely hear him.

"It's Ronnie. I..."

There was an inordinately long pause.

"I'm sorry, Kitty. I cannot tell you how sorry...I...I mean, you knew about me. You know about what I did, who I am. So why me? I just...I'm so sorry...I'm not saying this right. Aw, hell, I'm coming over there."

He hung up, and the voicemail ended.

_I'm coming over there_.

With an odd mixture of excitement and trepidation, Kitty went to her window. She parted the blinds with two fingers and looked out. Ronnie was sitting with his back to the house on the stairs that led off their property onto the sidewalk. His bike was propped on its kickstand next to him.

Kitty twitched the blinds shut. "Crap!" she mouthed silently. She crept out into the hall, shutting her bedroom door behind her. Her father's snoring was clearly audible over the sounds of the television. Nevertheless, Kitty was quiet as she snuck down the stairs to the front door. She opened it noiselessly and slipped outside into the night.

Ronnie turned, hearing her bare feet pattering down the walk. His large eyes were full of worry. Kitty put her hand to her head and regarded him for a moment. At last she looked up and down the street, then reached out her hand. Ronnie stared at it hesitantly.

"Come on, bring your bike around back. Before somebody calls the cops on you."

He wheeled his bicycle through the grass, following her around the house. Kitty looked back once, and he had to drag his eyes away from her swaying backside to meet her gaze. He could not read the expression on her face. He leaned his bike against the railing around the steps down to the basement door. She grabbed his hand again to pull him inside.

She shut the door, and there was an awkward silence, then they both blurted, "I'm sorry," almost simultaneously.

Kitty chuckled nervously, but Ronnie just brought her hand to his face. He rubbed her knuckles thoughtfully against his cheek.

"Why me?" he asked at last.

"What do you mean?"

"You seduced me, Kitty. You did. But why did you bother seducing..._me_?"

Kitty sighed, bringing her other hand up to cup his acne-scarred face. "In the beginning, Ronnie, it was because you wanted me. I could see it in your eyes, that day in the back room."

He scoffed. "Plenty of guys look at you like that."

She shook her head. "No. No, they don't. Ronnie, I know I'm not pretty-"

"What?" he blustered, frowning. "You're _crazy_ is what you are!" His eyes roamed over her. "You're so beautiful, I can hardly stand it."

Kitty looked sad. "Ronnie, you make me feel like...like I'm something _precious_."

"You are," he insisted earnestly.

"I would do just about anything to have you keep looking at me like that. With those gorgeous blue eyes of yours."

Her gaze broke him. "I'm so sorry about what I said to you."

"I'm sorry I lied to you," she whispered tearfully. "And for what I said. Can you forgive me?"

Ronnie shook his head dismissively, sliding his arms around her waist.

"No, Ronnie," Kitty insisted. "I can't lose you. You...nail me back in my skin."

She placed her small hands on his chest and pressed her lips gently on his. Ronnie buried himself in her kiss.

"Are we okay?" she gasped against his mouth.

"We can't change the past," he told her. "But the future can be a different story."

Kitty smiled then, and for Ronnie it was like watching a rainbow appear after a storm. He licked a tear that was sliding down her cheek, lapping up the salty moisture. She giggled. He kissed her full lips, and she moaned eagerly into his mouth. She slid her hands up to rest her arms on his shoulders. His hand cupped her buttock through the thin fabric of her boxers. She pulled him over to the couch.

"Stay a while?" Kitty murmured when their lips parted for a moment.

For an answer, Ronnie sat down on the sofa, arranging her across his lap, and slipped his tongue into her mouth. His fingertips stroked the soft flesh of her legs. Kitty curved her body willingly against his.

"This is what it's like to have a girlfriend," he muttered wonderingly.

"Hm?"

"Is your dad home?"

"Sleeping upstairs. Why do you care?" she teased.

He grinned crookedly.

Kitty twined her arms around his neck. "I'm so sorry, Ronnie."

He smacked her lips with a quick, playful kiss.

"I mean it, Ronnie," she said earnestly. "It's never felt like this before. Never."

Ronnie brushed the damp hair away from her face and gently tucked it behind her ear. His fingers traced her jawline. He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, then he clasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"None," he said firmly, locking her gaze with his own.

"What?"

"Zero. I've never..." he faltered slightly. "I've never touched. I'm not going to tell you I haven't looked and, well, shown." He flashed his eyebrows ruefully. "But I've never touched. I swear."

Kitty was silent.

"You don't believe me." He released her face and sat back.

A tiny smile curled her lips. She looked down coyly, then back up at him through her eyelashes. "So I was kinda...your first?"

He smiled shyly. "Yeah. I guess so."

"Was it, y'know...good?"

Ronnie pulled a face. "Remember earlier? When I told you you're insane?"

Kitty giggled.

"It was worth a three-year stretch, let me put it that way."

"Wish I'd known you. Before. I'd have waited for you." She grinned wickedly. "I'd've sent you letters, and pictures..."

"I'd have gone crazy inside, thinking about you." His eyes roamed over her body, and he blew air out between loose lips. "Plus they'd have given me more time. You were only fifteen back then."

"Sixteen!" Kitty corrected.

Ronnie rolled his eyes.

"You could've, you know, been the first one I..." she murmured shyly. "It would've been good. Nice."

"It wasn't?"

"I hated it," Kitty explained, shrugging. "It hurt."

"Well, the first time it does. I mean-"

"No, Ronnie. Every time."

His eyebrows knit. "Were they rough with you?"

"Uhm, not particularly. I dunno. I just...froze up. It's psychological, I guess. It's something wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you," Ronnie assured her, stroking her back under her shirt. "You just weren't ready."

Kitty shivered, totally distracted by his touch. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. He ran his fingertips lightly across her shoulderblades.

"Oh, god," she moaned.

"I love your skin," he murmured, smiling. "It's so soft. And you're so responsive."

"Mmm, maybe you're just good at what you do."

Ronnie snorted wryly.

"You're giving me skingasms."

"I'm giving you _what_?" he laughed.

She trembled, gasping, as his fingertips trailed over a certain spot. Ronnie stared in amazement. Arching her back, Kitty twitched with pleasure again and again.

"'Skingasms'," he marveled softly. He reached down with his left hand to adjust his growing erection to a more comfortable position.

Kitty noticed the movement. Grinning, she kissed his neck. "Take your shirt off," she demanded.

Ronnie frowned and shook his head.

"Please!"

She started to undo his buttons. He allowed her to strip the outer shirt off of him, but hesitated when her hands went to the hem of his tee.

"Why not?" she asked curiously.

"I'm not much to look at."

"I think _I _should be the judge of that."

"I don't know..."

Kitty pulled him down on top of her and kissed him passionately. When she pulled away, they were both breathing heavily.

Ronnie swore under his breath. "I can't say 'no' to you."

He twisted them until he was on the bottom, his head pillowed on the armrest. Kitty grinned as he pulled off his tee. Her hands went immediately to his bare flesh, exploring the dark hair on his chest. He lay back, enjoying the attention. She sighed happily.

"I see plenty to look at," she purred.

"Now lemme see those delicious little tits," he murmured huskily, reaching for her shirt.

"Ronnie!" Kitty admonished as she wrestled the tee off.

"I love your tits," he confessed wickedly, relishing her reaction to the dirty word. Nevertheless, her sweet, puffy nipples sprang to attention at his slightest touch, and he soon had her moaning with pleasure.

Ronnie scooted down on the couch, drawing her hips up. He plucked at her boxer shorts. Obediently, Kitty stood up on the cushion to remove them. He smiled up at her and stroked himself through his pants. The vantage point aroused him enormously.

"Sit on my face," he ordered.

Kitty stared at him as if he had sprouted an ear in the middle of his forehead.

Ronnie rolled his eyes. "Enough with the innocence act." He curled his finger at her in a 'come here' gesture.

She blushed furiously. "Ronnie, I'm not acting," she insisted. "I've never done that before. That's..."

"What?" he asked wryly. "Twisted? Kinky?"

Her lips wriggled, and she began to laugh. "Alright, alright. But lemme go pee first."

Ronnie cocked his head. "Can I watch?"

"You want to watch me pee," Kitty repeated incredulously.

He nodded innocently.

She stepped down off the couch and regarded him thoughtfully. "This is strictly a no-pants party," she said at last, eyeing his trousers pointedly.

Ronnie's eyes flicked toward the stairs. "What if your dad wakes up?"

She pointed a finger at him. "Adult." Then she pointed at herself. "Adult. _Capisc'_?"

Ronnie did not look convinced.

Kitty rolled her eyes, scoffing. "If he comes down to find me sitting on your face, I think your pantslessness will be the _least_ of his concerns."

"So you'll do it?"

"What?"

Ronnie licked his lips suggestively.

She giggled. "Yes! Okay?"

"Then I'm all in favor of pantslessness." Ronnie stripped off his trousers and underwear, kicking off his shoes and socks.

Kitty padded into the basement bathroom. Ronnie followed her in and, shutting the door, switched the lights on. She blinked in the sudden brightness.

"It's no fun if I can't see," he explained, shrugging.

She took a seat on the toilet. He stood in front of her, and she took the opportunity to examine his lower half. He was slim and strong.

"Hi," she said, waving to his erection.

Ronnie grinned and knelt in front of her, parting her thighs a little wider. She eyed him nervously.

"I'm experiencing a little performance anxiety here."

He leaned over and switched on the sink faucet. "Better?"

She covered a giggle and, trying to relax, listened to the running water. At last her muscles released, and urine began to flow. Ronnie watched with great interest.

"You're a corrupting influence," Kitty told his widow's peak.

He smiled without looking up.

When her bladder was empty, she tore off some paper and blotted herself. She flushed the toilet and leaned over the sink to wash her hands. She turned around to find Ronnie lying face-up on the floor, his knees cocked up.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

He nodded, eyes wide.

Kitty stepped carefully over him and crouched above his shoulders. Just before he guided her hips into position, Ronnie looked up at her.

"You'd do anything I wanted, wouldn't you?" he asked wonderingly.

She nodded shyly. "Just about."

He drew her pelvis toward his mouth. Off-balance, unsure, Kitty gasped her pleasure as his tongue laved her sensitive flesh. The intensity of her climax just moments later was almost painful.

*****

A/N: Trying to get inside Ronnie's head, I decided that he would be fixated on the nubile female body. In interactions with a partner, he would be more focused on her body than his own, except insofar as teaching her about his body. Hence the, erm, hoohah-worship.


	11. Chapter 11

"Do you like pickles? I brought pickles."

Ronnie leaned over and selected one of the spears that Kitty had rolled, deli-style, into a sheet of waxed paper covered with tinfoil. He stuck the end of the pickle in his mouth to hold it with his teeth like a cigar while he squirted some more mustard onto his sandwich. Kitty giggled at the image he presented.

"What?" he asked around the pickle.

She chuckled as she bit into her own sandwich.

"What'd you have today?"

Kitty swallowed her bite and took a sip of her soda. "Trig," she answered grimacing. "Asian history. Physics."

"I didn't know you're taking physics," he exclaimed, impressed.

"Well, physics for _poets_."

Ronnie cracked the pickle between his teeth. "That's what the class is _called_?"

"No! It's, like, 'Physics for Non-majors'. It's for kids who are, you know, stupid at math and science."

"You're not stupid."

Kitty smiled and stared into his large blue eyes.

_I feel safe when I'm with you, Ronnie_.

He licked the last traces of pickle juice off his fingers, then started on his sandwich. "Why didn't you leave town to go to school? You could have gotten into somewhere better than Southeastern Community."

She looked down to reach for her soda and noticed a bunch of crumbs on her leg. She brushed them off. "I got into Amherst," she said softly.

"Amherst?" he repeated, flabbergasted.

"And UMass. And B.C."

Ronnie stared at her open-mouthed. "So what the hell are you doing here? Was it money?"

"No," she said softly. "Dad said he would find a way to pay for school. I just couldn't leave him, you know? Ever since Mom died, he's been...I dunno, like a child. Well, that's not it exactly. It's just that he doesn't wantanything, he doesn't mind anything. He just sort of drifts in the breeze. If I wasn't here to make sure he eats and to clean the house..." Kitty shrugged.

"How did your mom...?"

"Ovarian cancer."

Ronnie scooted over next to her. She relaxed against him, nibbling the last of her sandwich. His arm went around her. Kitty sighed. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and nuzzled her neck comfortingly.

"Anyways, I told Dad that I'll transfer next year when I've got my Associate's."

"Are you going to?"

"Maybe."

He turned her face toward him, resting his forehead on hers. "Yes, you're going to. Got it?"

"Are you trying to hypnotize me?" she asked, grinning. She pushed her jaw forward to kiss him briefly on the lips. "You're getting verrrry sleeeeeepy."

"Sleepy is not what I get when I'm around you," Ronnie whispered in her ear.

Kitty slapped his shoulder and jumped up. "I'm going to throw the trash away. Don't make any life-changing decisions for me until I get back." She stuck her tongue out at him as she gathered up the detritus from their little picnic.

"Don't show me that thing unless you intend to use it," he teased.

Twitching her hips, Kitty headed over a slight rise to a cluster of picnic tables and a barbeque grill. She dumped the handful of rubbish into a trashcan.

"You should be ashamed of yourself."

Kitty whirled to face the blonde woman who had spoken. The stranger was sitting on the bench of a picnic table, sipping from a can of diet soda through a straw.

"Excuse me?" Kitty asked sharply.

"Troy! Play _nice_ with your sister!" the woman yelled at a husky blonde toddler. She turned back to Kitty and repeated her statement crisply. "You should be _ashamed_ of yourself. Spending time with That Man." Her voice lent capital letters to the closing phrase. There was an expression on her face that suggested she smelled manure.

"Gimme a break," Kitty muttered, rolling her eyes. She turned back toward Ronnie.

"Just keep him away from the kids, do you hear me? He doesn't belong here with _decent_ people." The blonde took a sip of her soda.

"They should have castrated him before they let him out," she added as Kitty walked away.

Kitty tucked her hand behind her back and flipped the bird. The blonde made a noise like a duck getting trapped in the exhaust pipe of a moped. Ronnie smiled uncertainly at Kitty as she returned to their spot under the tree.

"Hey, cutie," she said, resuming her place next to him.

He frowned and looked past her over the rise. "What did that woman want?"

Kitty shrugged. "Just saying hi. She comes to the bookstore sometimes."

Ronnie eyed her warily. "She was giving you shit, wasn't she?"

He started to rise, but she tugged him down.

"So what if she was? I don't care."

"I don't like people talking to you that way," he said grimly.

"If you can handle it, I can handle it," Kitty asserted. She clasped his knee possessively.

"You don't need that!" Ronnie insisted. "They'll poison you against me-"

"Hey!" she whispered, brushing his lips with hers. "Hey! I'm crazy about you, and she's not gonna change that, no matter what she says. _No one's_ gonna change that."

He squinted at her for a while, then relented. "I'm crazy about you too, Kitty," he said.

"Yeah?" she asked shyly.

"Yeah." He paused. "For one thing, you make a mean ham sandwich."

She laughed.

"Not to mention how goddamn sexy you are," he added, lowering his voice.

"Crazy in _lust, _is what you are," she scoffed.

Ronnie kissed the corner of her mouth and held her gaze. "I'd be crazy about you even if they _had_ castrated me."

Kitty frowned. "Jesus, Ronnie, you _heard_ her!"

"She's not the first, and she won't be the last," he snorted. "But it's not just that part of me that wants you. It's all of me."

Kitty nibbled on his lower lip. Her hand went to his chest. "But that part too, right?"

He gave her a devilish look that sent warmth flooding between her legs. "Mhm. Hey, remember all that business about when you feel 'wiggly' and nothing makes it better?"

"Oh jeez!" Kitty clapped her hands over her mouth, stifling her mortified laughter.

"Are you honestly telling me that you've never found _anything _that makes it better?" He cocked a knowing eye at her.

"Ronnie!" she exclaimed, scandalized. She looked around to see if anyone was nearby. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you asking me if I masturbate?"

He waggled his eyebrows.

"Yes. I do," she answered primly. She trailed a lazy finger along the skin of his neck. "Feverishly, actually, just these last few weeks."

"'Feverishly'? Why's that?"

"Well, I met this supercute, older guy who can get me off better than I can, which I didn't even think was _possible_. But when I'm not with him, I've just been in, like, overdrive."

Ronnie swallowed. "You'll have to let me watch sometime."

"Let you watch me?"

He nodded. "I want to see how you do it."

"What do you mean: 'how I do it'?" she giggled. "How do you _think_ I do it?"

"I want to know how you please yourself, so I can please you," he whispered. The heat of his blue eyes made Kitty's mouth go dry.

"Didn't I just tell you? You're better at it than _I_ am!"

He eyed her thoughtfully for a long moment, his fingers stroking the bare flesh of her calf. "I'm going to call you tonight," he said at last, "and I want you to do it for me."

"Do what?" She raised her eyebrows deliberately.

"Touch yourself," he murmured. "And I want you to tell me about it while you're doing it."

"No way!

He lifted his soda and took a sip. "Way."

*****

Ronnie was as good as his word.

"I just got into bed," Kitty told him when she answered her cell. She curled up on her pillow, cuddling the phone against her ear.

"Oh, really?" he teased. "You alone?"

"Yeah, unless you count Pooh Bear."

"Never thought I'd be jealous of Winnie the Pooh." Ronnie sighed. "Thanks for the picnic, Kitty. I can't think of a better treat after working all day."

She grinned. "Yes, you can, or you wouldn't have called."

"What?" he asked innocently. Kitty could just picture the wide-eyed expression on his face. "I can't call my girlfriend to wish her good night?"

"You know very well that you have an ulterior motive, Ronnie!"

"Whatever do you mean?"

Kitty rolled her eyes and flipped onto her back. "Hmph."

"Ohhh..." he said thoughtfully. "You mean, what we were talking about earlier..."

"You're crazy if you think I'm doing that."

"I thought you said you'd do anything I wanted."

The silky smoothness of his voice made Kitty shiver. She was aroused, even though she would not admit it to him. She sighed and slid her hand down her belly. Her thighs parted slightly, almost of their own accord.

"Oh, Ronnie, I'm really wet," she moaned theatrically.

"Yeah? Tell me."

Kitty cracked up.

"Come on," he begged. "Please. Just pretend I'm there."

"If you were here, I wouldn't be doing _this_," she retorted. Nevertheless, her fingers slipped down into her passage. She was, actually, quite moist. She bit her lip and spread her legs farther.

"So you _are_ doing it?"

"Yes," she admitted, giggling. Her voice dropped shyly. "I've got two fingers inside myself."

He exhaled shakily.

"I'd like it to be you, Ronnie."

"Me too," he breathed.

"I really want to have sex with you."

"Soon, baby. When you're ready."

"How will you know when I'm ready?" she asked, sliding her fingers in and out.

"I'll know. Besides, you don't like what we do now?"

"Mm, I _love_ what we do now."

"Tell me, Kitty."

She could practically feel his voice stroking her. "Should I move up a little? I'm all swollen."

"Where?" he demanded. "Say it."

"My clit," she whispered. "Oh, that feels good. I'm rubbing it."

"How? Describe it."

"With my middle finger. Just the pad – oh!"

"Where? That spot on the left?"

"The right!" she exclaimed.

Ronnie chuckled. "_My_ left. Your right. Toward the bottom."

"Yeah," she gasped, the pleasure intensifying. "That's the spot."

"God, you're gorgeous. Wish I was there."

"Me too. Your tongue is so much more fun than my finger."

"I try, baby."

"Ooh, Ronnie...I...oh!"

"Christ, I love you, Kitty."

"OhgodIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou."

"Don't stop," he urged.

"OH!" she gasped as her climax rolled through her. She shook with pleasure and release. "Ohhh!"

"Good girl, Kitty," he whispered. "Good girl."

******

A/N: Sorry if reading about someone else's phone sex doesn't do it for ya. LOL


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Plot Convenience Playhouse presents...

********

"Tell me something, baby girl."

"Anything!" she said, grinning and cupping her chin with her hand.

Ronnie sat back in the kitchen chair, eyeing her appraisingly. He stuck the nail of his middle finger in his mouth to chew the raw edge. "Are you just pretending to be bad at math?"

Kitty laughed uproariously. "No! I really suck at math! I am _genuinely_ this bad! I know it's hard to believe, but it's true."

"Stop," he muttered, frowning around his fingernail. "Stop talking like you're dumb. You're not dumb."

"You're biased," she declared, rolling her eyes.

"Why's that?" Ronnie asked.

"Because you're in love with me."

They had said the words a dozen times in the few weeks since that night on the phone, but it still gave Ronnie the shivers to hear her. His eyes flashed with pleasure. "You're right. And one of the reasons I love you is how smart you are."

She blushed prettily. "So are you worried you've been wasting your time?" she said after a minute. "Helping me with math, I mean?"

"'Wasting my time'?" he repeated. He laughed nervously and toyed with the pages of her textbook. "Time is all I have to give you."

Kitty stared at him, suddenly aware of growing older with each passing moment. Every breath and heartbeat drew her further from him. Soon she would be old, and her flesh would repel him. Would he still pretend to want her?

The sound of her father's tread on the stair startled her out of the reverie.

"Hi, honey," Sam Brigidson called as he entered the kitchen, heading for the pantry.

"Hi, Dad."

Sam poured himself some gin and moved to the fridge to add tonic and a wedge of lime.

"Dad, this is Ronnie."

"Ah, yes," Sam said. "Nice to meet you, Ronnie."

Ronnie rose, heart pounding, to shake hands with Kitty's father. He noticed that the older man's eyes were a little bleary, but they showed no sign of recognition. Relief flooded through him, and he smiled. Sam turned back to his daughter.

"Alright, I'm for bed, kiddo. Don't stay up too late."

"G'night, dad."

Ronnie waved 'good night' as Sam trudged heavily up the stairs. "Thank god that's done," he sighed, slouching back into the kitchen chair. He regarded Kitty with some wonder. "Your dad really didn't know me."

"I told you: he's clueless," she said, shrugging.

Ronnie took her small hand and brought it to his lips. "And you don't think he cares that I'm so much older than you?" He kissed her knuckles.

Kitty closed her eyes at the sensation of his warm mouth on her hand. "Mmm."

"That didn't really answer my question," he teased. She turned her thumb up to stroke his lower lip. He glanced down, then up, shyly. "What are you doing this weekend, beautiful?"

She grinned, meeting his vivid blue gaze. "I dunno. What _am_ I doing this weekend?" She scooted her chair closer and brushed his mouth with a kiss. Ronnie checked to make sure the stairs were empty, then pulled Kitty into his lap. He stroked the soft, bare skin of her legs where the hem of her shorts met her thighs.

"Mommy's going up to visit Aunt Colleen on Friday," he told Kitty's fragile neck.

"Where's Aunt Colleen?"

He laughed softly, tickling her throat with his breath. "Bangor. She'll be gone until Sunday."

"Mr. M!" she exclaimed in mock surprise. "Are you suggesting what I _think_ you're suggesting?"

Ronnie wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face between her tiny breasts. "Come stay with me," he murmured, almost begging. He mouthed the soft edge of her bra. "I want you to stay with me."

Kitty sat back and stared down at him contemplatively. He held his breath while she fiddled with the collar of his shirt. At last she leaned down to put her mouth to his ear. "On one condition: let's make love."

He nodded, gathering her tighter against him.

"I'm ready!" she insisted.

"Okay, okay," he breathed. "If you want to, we will. Just say you'll stay with me."

"As long as you want me."

Ronnie let out a shuddering breath.

"Love you," Kitty whispered. Then she began to wiggle gleefully on his lap in a way that made him suddenly desperate to bury himself inside of her.

"Do you really want to..y'know?" he stuttered.

She blushed. "You know I do!"

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. He stroked her thigh. "I'm gonna go buy some protection then."

Kitty sat up sharply, mouth open, and at first he thought she was offended by the idea, but she took his face in her hands.

"Ronnie!" she gasped, her face almost a comical mask of shock. "You _can't_ buy condoms in this town! They'll lynch you!"

His jaw dropped. It had honestly never occurred to him that his fellow citizens might be disturbed by the notion of a convicted sex offender purchasing prophylactics. She giggled at his expression.

"I'll take care of it, handsome."

Ronnie made a face, not wanting her to have to deal with this. Then she kissed him passionately, and any future plans (beyond clutching her warm flesh against his body, that is) fled.

******

Sam Brigidson poured himself a cup of coffee and took a sip, staring at his daughter. He swallowed the mouthful thoughtfully.

"So are you dating this guy?" he asked in as casual a manner as he could muster.

Kitty turned to her father, mouth open. She _never_ discussed romantic topics with him; even when her mother was alive, Kitty had not liked to speak with her about such things. She was not sure that her father even knew the first name of the boy who had taken her to senior prom.

"Uhm, who?" she stuttered awkwardly.

"This 'Ronnie'?" Sam turned away to put an English muffin in the toaster oven, clearly avoiding his daughter's eyes. "You've been going out with him a lot. So are you two, you know...together?"

Kitty blushed and dove into the plasticware bin to find a container for her father's lunch. She was packing leftover pasta salad for him. Her hand closed over a bowl of the right size, but she could not find the lid.

"Yeah, we're kinda serious, I guess," she admitted. She dug through the mini-mountain of plastic, reminding herself once again that she should match the pieces together when she took them out of the washer. "Where's the damn top?"

"Where'd you meet him?"

"Sweet," Kitty muttered, seizing on the right lid. She stood to answer her father. "At the bookstore. He works on the delivery truck."

She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the pasta salad. Her father had made this batch. Since he always added way too many olives, Kitty was happy to foist the leftovers off as his lunch. She scooped cold salad into the plastic container.

"I killed that watermelon yesterday, so I'm giving you some of that too, okay?"

"Alright, kiddo. So what's he like?" Sam asked. The toaster dinged, and he removed his muffin by pinching the hot edge. He dumped the toast on his plate. Blowing on his fingertips, he reached for the butter tub.

_He's like 'not in prison anymore', Dad._

"Smart...funny...really sweet." Watermelon slithered into the other partition of the plasticware.

"Does he treat you well?"

"Yeah, actually," Kitty answered, blushing. She popped the lid onto the container. "He really does."

Sam finished chewing his bite and dropped his English muffin back onto its plate. He regarded his daughter with a frown. She knew what was coming next.

"He's...a good bit older than you, Kitty."

She fiddled with the strap of her father's lunch sack, pondering how to address this. It was not the worst issue he could have brought up, but she still did not have a ready answer. At last she sighed, and admitted, "Yeah. He is. But you know, Dad, he's not really as old as his years. That sounds cliche, I know, but...in some ways, he seems younger than me."

"Just, uh, just be careful, okay?"

"Yeah, Dad. I will."

And that was it. Kitty finished packing her father's lunch and saw him off to work. Then she headed upstairs to take a shower. Opening the medicine cabinet, she withdrew a small plastic compact case. There were only three green pills left inside; she swallowed one. She was not sure how long her period would last, but she hoped it would be done by Friday, when she would have started the second round of hormones. She had no intention of putting any protective material between Ronnie and herself. She wanted to feel _him_, every inch of him. She could hardly wait.

****

A/N: Maybe two/three more chapters, loyal readers. Ready for lucky number thirteen? :D


	13. Chapter 13

Kitty had to close on Friday night. She had begged and begged, but Leonard would not let her leave early. Her shift lasted forever, minutes dragging by. She shelved, ran the register, took a short dinner break, then jumped back on the register. And, of course, she ended up waiting on the most annoying customers: the woman who paid in cash, down to the very last penny she had to dig out of her purse; the guy who was _sure_ he had a bonus card account ("Can we check just one more phone number?"); the grandmother who insisted they wait for her grandson to run all the way to the back of the store to retrieve a copy of the book she wanted that did not have a bent corner.

It was almost closing time when a tall, middle-aged blond man approached her register. He did not have any merchandise with him. His face triggered something in Kitty's memory, but she could not place him.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked tiredly. She had been looking at the clock every few seconds for hours; her constant attention did not seem to be helping time along in any way.

"You should stay away from him," the customer announced.

"Beg pardon?"

"McGorvey. He's dangerous."

"Sir," she said deliberately, narrowing her eyes, "is there something I can help you find?"

"Look, honey," the man said. "I see you over there all the time. I'm a cop, and I'm telling you: stay away."

The penny dropped. "Christ, you're the guy from that 'League of Parental Decency' or whatever."

He nodded encouragement.

Kitty frowned at him, aghast. "You're the one who's been plastering the town with those damn fliers of Ronnie's face, you creep."

The man began to look wary.

"I told May she should get a restraining order so you can't come onto Blueberry Court. You trespass on her property all the time."

"Court orders don't seem to stop your 'boyfriend' from visiting playgrounds and swimming pools," he retorted angrily.

"Oh, please. Ronnie's staying out of trouble, trust me. Meanwhile, you're setting fire to bags of dogpoop on May's porch. What are you, twelve?"

"I'm just trying to protect the community, _including you, young lady_, from a dangerous predator!"

Leonard looked up from the information desk at the man's raised voice. He glanced at Kitty's face and started toward the bank of registers. The blond man, following Kitty's eyes, took a step back in the direction of the front doors.

"Everything all right here, sir?" Leonard asked in that faux-polite, managerial way.

The man whom Kitty now knew to be an ex-cop snagged a tin of mints from the display next to the register and tossed it onto the counter with a flourish. His manner suddenly made her wonder if he had been drinking.

"That'll be one ninety-four, sir," Kitty grunted.

Leonard hovered nearby as the blond man fished a five out of his wallet and handed it over. Kitty laid his change and the receipt on the counter, not willing to touch him even that much.

"Think about what I said, alright?" He stuffed change, receipt, and mints into his pocket and backed out of the store, forehead lowered in an attitude that was meant to communicate gravity.

Kitty raised a peremptory hand to Leonard's questioning look. "Don't ask." She shook her head, rolling her eyes.

Leonard made a face. "Okay, well, why don't you close out that register? Then I'll go ahead and let you scoot out of here a little early."

"Are you serious, Leonard?" she gasped, grinning. She leaned across the counter to embrace her manager.

"Don't," he ordered, "spread it around!"

Kitty did a little dance of excitement as she keyed in the code to get a register report. She closed out in record time, then skipped to the back room to clock out and grab her things, waving in surreptitious glee at Leonard when she passed the information desk.

A light summer rain was beginning outside. She jogged uncaringly through it to her Blazer. Ordinarily she walked to work, but she needed to go home before heading over to Ronnie's and had wanted to cut her travel time as much as possible. She turned her radio up and sped the whole way, gunning it through several yellow lights.

"Hi, Dad!" she called as she flung herself up the stairs and into the shower. She scrubbed furiously and shaved as quickly as she dared. The expectation of having Ronnie's hands on her was driving her crazy. She briefly considered masturbating: a fast climax might take the edge off; but she decided that it would waste time. She toweled off and dressed, pulling her hair into two pigtails. She completed the effect with the cherry lipgloss she knew he liked.

"Ok, Dad, I'm off!"

Sam blinked at her from the couch in his den. The Sox were playing on the tv.

"Remember? I'm staying over at a friend's." Kitty raised her backpack as proof. "There's hamburgers and salad in the fridge, and I left that lasagna you like in the freezer. One hour in the oven on 350. Call me if you need anything, k?"

"Ok, sweetheart. Have fun." He lifted his beer in salute.

Kitty experienced a twinge of guilt at abandoning her father as she blew out the front door, but she shoved the feeling down. She would not be gone long. Besides, her dad was a grown man. She shifted the Blazer into gear, radio still blasting, and headed for Blueberry Court. A vision of freckles and blue eyes hovered behind her eyes while she drove.

There was a part of her that remained unsurprised when she pulled up to Ronnie's and found a familiar gray van parked on the other side of the street. The driver's side window was rolled down, one long blond-haired arm resting on the frame. Kitty stepped out of her truck and glared at the ex-cop, tugging one strap of her backpack onto each shoulder. He shifted to open the door of his van.

"Come near me, and I'll make sure _you_ know what it's like to go to prison on an exposure beef," she hissed. Not waiting to see if he had taken the hint, she scooted up the walk to Ronnie's house. He was waiting with the door open when she made it to the porch. He stared at the man in the van, but Kitty pushed him back into the house, smiling.

"What did he-" Ronnie began when the door was shut.

She shook her head, cutting him off, and shot the bolt on the door.

He looked at her, and his eyes softened. "Hey." He pushed her back against the door, and she twined her arms around his neck. "Hungry?" he asked, his lips a hair's breadth from her own.

"Uh-uh."

"I like your backpack," he murmured, running his fingers under the straps. His thumbs hovered near her small breasts.

"You've seen my backpack before!" she giggled.

"Let me rephrase." Ronnie stepped back to get a full view of her: sneakers, bare legs, short jean skirt, Hello Kitty t-shirt, backpack, and fair hair done up in pigtails. "You look adorable."

"I just need a lollipop," she teased, blushing, and slipped her finger in her mouth to demonstrate.

He narrowed his eyes and turned his chin away in warning, but his lips were smiling. The look sent a rush of warmth flooding into Kitty's belly: arousal, and something else too. She glanced around the little house that would be theirs alone for the next forty-eight hours and felt a relaxing joy spread out through her muscles. She kissed Ronnie lightly, pressing her little hands against his chest. His body was thrumming with desire.

"I think I'm up past my bedtime," she told him.

Raising an eyebrow, he took her hand and started up the stairs. She followed him down the upstairs hallway, grinning as they passed a picture of him as a baby, to the dark wood of his bedroom door. The room smelled like him, only more so. No posters or pictures adorned the old-fashioned wallpaper. There was a desk, on which lay a few sci-fi novels and the normal detritus of male existence (spare change, pens, a pocketknife). She smiled to see a candle burning on the highboy dresser. The full bed was neatly made and covered in a navy blue striped comforter; a funny little stuffed frog sat in front of the pillows.

"You sleep with a frog?"

Ronnie regarded her solemnly. "That's for you."

"Awww, yay!" Kitty cheered, snatching up the stuffed animal and embracing it. She stroked its little green head. Wide blue eyes watched her indulgently, and she grinned at Ronnie. "Thank you!"

"You like him?"

"He's so cute!"

Clutching the frog to her chest, she approached Ronnie for an obedient thank-you kiss. He took advantage, however, parting her lips and plunging his tongue into her mouth. Kitty leaned into him, moaning happily. She was a little breathless when he released her. She blushed and looked up at him shyly.

"I got over here as fast as I could..."

"Mhm," he said, listening, as he helped her shrug out of her backpack. He placed it on the floor at the foot of the bed.

"...but I almost got sidetracked by a little problem."

Ronnie frowned uncomprehendingly.

"In the shower," she added, flashing her eyes meaningfully and canting her hips.

A slow smile spread across his lips. "Did you? Get 'sidetracked', I mean?"

Kitty looked coy for a moment, but finally shook her head.

"Are you wet right now?"

Her eyes went wide with shock at his sudden crudeness, and she giggled.

"Are you?" Ronnie drawled. With a sudden movement, he stepped forward and grabbed her around the waist. His free hand snagged the frog and tossed it on the bed, then snaked under her skirt to find the evidence of her arousal. She gasped as his fingers roughly prodded the fabric covering her sex. The cotton was almost soaked through.

"You little slut," he growled. "You really want it, don't you?" There was something dangerous about Ronnie's voice. She had heard shades of it on previous occasions, and it always piqued her desire.

"Yes, I do," she murmured, playing along.

"Do you know what little sluts get?"

Her mouth formed the word 'no', but no sound emerged. Ronnie dragged her to the bed, where he sat against the headboard and flipped her over his lap. Kitty lay with her belly across his thighs, eagerly awaiting his next move. She sighed when his fingers trailed up the back of her thighs and tugged her skirt over her waist. He stared down at the panties she had chosen to wear: light pink cotton with ruffles covering the butt. Smirking, he toyed lightly with the folds of fabric. She held her breath expectantly. At last he hooked his fingers in the waistband and tugged the panties down to her knees.

"Have you ever been spanked, Kitty?" he asked, caressing her cute little backside, pale white above her tanline.

She shook her head vigorously.

"Never?"

"Unh-unh," she gulped.

He popped her one, lightly, and she gasped. Her skin colored in the shape of his hand. He spanked her again, and the sound that passed her lips made his erection twitch. The next time his hand came down, she actually seemed to be raising her buttocks to meet him. He rested his off-hand on her lower back: yes, she was actually arching her spine. He spanked her a few more times and was delighted to feel her hips lifting off his thighs.

"You're loving this, aren't you?" he challenged.

"Oh, yes," she said in that tiny, breathy voice he only heard when she was hugely aroused. "I've always wanted someone to...but you're...this is..."

She trailed off as his fingers parted her folds to explore her sex. He licked his lips to feel her fairly dripping. She thrust back against him, but he removed his hand, clucking his tongue, and smacked her buttocks again. She moaned at the intertwined pleasure and pain. Mommy had taunted him about wanting to be Kitty's first, but the notion that he was the only man ever to give his little girl this experience was really sending him. He popped her again and again, feeling her flesh grow hot under his hand. Incredibly, she lifted her hips until she could get her knees underneath her, exposing both her backside and her sex to his complete control. She cried out deliciously at every blow.

"You're not a nice girl at all, are you?" he purred. "Nice girls don't want it this bad."

To prove his point, he slipped his middle and ring fingers into her slick passage. She bucked back against his hand, humming excitedly.

"But you're mine, aren't you?"

"Yes!" she wailed.

"Say it."

"I'm yours, Ronnie!"

He coated his thumb with her juices and inserted it slowly into her rear entrance. She startled at first, then let him have his way. "Good girl," he encouraged, as her muscles stretched around him. "Good girl." Kitty gasped at the combined sensation and rocked her hips shamelessly against his hand. He knew that she was close. She closed her mouth around her forearm to stifle the cries that were escaping her lips. He shook his head, although he knew she could not see the gesture.

"Let me hear you, baby," he urged, biting his lower lip.

"Oh! Oh!" Kitty moaned breathlessly as she rubbed herself on his fingers.

Ronnie's hand worked furiously, and then her muscles clenched, and she shrieked, and he grinned possessively, watching the orgasm wrack her. God, he loved making her come.

She was still shuddering with release when she scrambled for his belt. Seconds later, her hot little mouth was closed around him, pleasuring him in that sweet but skillful way. He groaned happily and stared at the ceiling, as he had done so often over the years, bringing himself off in guilty silence. Now Kitty was in his bed, and there was no shame, only love, her lips and tongue and fingers coaxing him toward ecstasy.

*****

A/N: To be continued!

Thanks to Riot-Angel for the idea of including Larry. The sad thing is that, if Ronnie walks a happier path (than attempted self-castration, I mean), Larry doesn't get his chance at redemption. Maybe some other way will present itself...


	14. Chapter 14

"I don't _ever_ get to see you naked!" Kitty protested. She had managed to get his sneakers and socks off, but he was buckling his jeans back up. Her face softened. "Although you _do_ look really good in that t-shirt."

On most days Ronnie wore a collared shirt over his tee. Tonight, however, he had shrugged into a dark blue shirt that showed his eyes and freckles to best advantage. Kitty smiled, running her hands over his clothed chest. She slipped her fingers under the hem of his tee to explore his trim waist; she tickled him lightly. He grabbed her hands, grinning, and held her palms against his belly.

"I don't like that bra you're wearing," he declared, staring at her breasts.

She blinked and made a face, looking down at the shape of her bosom under the Hello Kitty shirt. "You haven't seen my bra yet."

"The shape. I don't like the shape it makes."

"It's a t-shirt bra. I think it makes my boobs look bigger and, you know, smooth. Not...pokey."

"But that's what I want to see."

"What? Poking?"

He nodded, eyes flashing.

Kitty reached under her shirt in the back and unfastened the hooks of her bra. One by one, she pulled the straps down her shoulders and slipped out of them, then pulled the bra out from one sleeve of her tee. "Tah-dah."

"Now _that_ is a magic trick." He tugged the excess fabric of her shirt down at the waist so it would pull tighter across her breasts. "Hmm, that's much better."

"Acceptable levels of poking?"

Ronnie flipped his eyebrows in assent, blue eyes riveted on her chest. His gaze awakened that coil of confidence inside Kitty. He made her feel so beautiful and sexy.

"Now let's get you out of these clothes," she purred. Her hands went to his belt. Shifting uncomfortably, he let her undo the buckle and unzip his fly. He lifted his hips to let her slide the jeans down his legs. She watched him curiously. "You think this is weird, don't you? Being in your room?"

"No, it's not weird," he said, a huge and sudden grin splitting his face. "It's _awesome_!"

Kitty giggled as she tugged the pants off his feet.

"You're in my bed," he announced, in the tones of one reporting a miraculous event. She smiled and reached for his t-shirt.

"Yeah. I am."

"You're in _my_ bed," he repeated more quietly. He made a silly face at her when his head popped out of the collar of his shirt, and Kitty laughed. Before she could start on his boxers, Ronnie tumbled her down on top of him until she lay in the crook of his elbow, and kissed her. She hummed happily into his mouth. Her hands played over his belly, tickling through the fine hairs and tracing their path under the waistband of his shorts. When she tried to push into his boxers, Ronnie flipped her onto her back and buried his tongue in her mouth. Kitty forgot all her other plans. She arched her body against him to make as much contact as possible. He stroked the soft skin of her thigh where her skirt hiked up. His lips ravished her, and she sighed with pleasure. They were both gasping for air when Ronnie broke from the kiss and propped himself on his elbow.

"Hi," she murmured, running her hands over the ridge that was his bottom rib. He shivered. "Oh, you're ticklish?" Grinning, she scrabbled her fingertips on his waist, and he flopped backward to escape her attack, panting and begging for mercy. At last he managed to pin her wrists, and she collapsed onto him, resting her head on his chest while they caught their breath. It felt so comfortable to rise up and down with the swell of his breathing, like being rocked on gentle waves. Her eyes wandered around the room, but in truth there was very little decoration in the room to tell her anything about the man in whose bed she lay. A thought occurred to her. "You grew up in this room, right?"

"Mhm," he agreed, flipping one of her pigtails idly with his finger. He liked the pigtails.

"Always had this bed?"

"No, I had a twin when I was a kid. But now we've got plenty of room to stretch out." He grabbed her waist and rolled them both over to demonstrate. Kitty did not laugh, and he watched her, perplexed. "What is it, baby?"

"Would he, uh, would he come in here?" she asked tentatively, tilting her head to look up at him.

Ronnie sighed heavily. Kitty almost spoke, telling him to forget it, it was a stupid question. But then he answered her, in a tone so conversational that it was incongruously chilling.

"No, Grady usually did it in the bathroom. When I was taking a bath or using the toilet. Sometimes even when I was just brushing my teeth. I guess he felt like there would be a reasonable excuse for me to be naked in the bathroom. If my mom walked in, I mean."

"Jesus," she hissed, wincing. She watched his eyes but could glean nothing from them. His jaw was so hard. She tightened the grip of her fingers on his slim frame.

"Why do you ask?" he said, inhaling sharply as if roused from sleep.

"Well," Kitty began, "I was just wondering if he's why you don't like to...y'know, why you don't like me to see you. Naked."

"You've seen me naked," Ronnie scoffed. Her t-shirt had ridden up in the back, and he stroked her bare spine distractedly.

"Yeah, that one time in the basement bathroom. But that hardly counts."

"Why doesn't that count?"

"'Cause I didn't really get a chance to have a good look at you."

A strange shadow passed over Ronnie's face. He stared at the ceiling, blue eyes glassy. At last he extricated himself from underneath her and sat up on the edge of the bed. Biting her lip, Kitty raised herself on one arm. This time she let her misgivings spill out:

"Oh god, Ronnie, I don't want to talk about it, if it's going to ruin our night. Let's talk about something else."

He turned his head so she could see his face in profile. His freckles stood out against that red flush which passes for a suntan among the very fair-skinned. His back, however, was pale as spun sugar. Acne scars pockmarked his cheek, which twitched concave now over the flex of his jaw. The light picked out a divot in his earlobe, the ghost of a piercing; Kitty had never noticed it before. He rubbed his hands against his knees.

"It's not about Grady. It's..." Fighting some internal battle, he finally tilted his head back in defeat. "I'll show you."

Taking a deep breath, Ronnie lifted his hips and dropped his shorts. Her attention was immediately drawn to the top of his left buttock: the white flesh there was marred by a shiny network of red scars that Kitty recognized as burns.

"Where...?" she gasped.

"Some friends I met in prison," he answered sardonically.

Kitty's knowledge of jail was essentially limited to television. Before Ronnie, she had never met anyone who had been incarcerated, except for the odd pothead who had done thirty days in County for possession. But three years, she figured, counted as hard time. He talked about his years inside so infrequently that she had never really visualized him there, except in the abstract. Nevertheless, he had been there. Maybe in a jumpsuit. Blue? Gray? Orange? Wearing those prison-issue Keds with no laces that were popular among the skaters now. Sometimes handcuffed. And at the mercy of violent offenders who, according to tv shows, justified their own crimes by targeting someone whose rap sheet was considered more despicable than their own. She had a feeling they would consider indecent exposure to a minor as an offense that might fit this bill.

With the gentle touch of her fingertip, she traced the scars on his beautiful skin: lines with which some asshole con had marked Ronnie's flesh so that he would always bear the label of 'child molester'. He had not spelled out the phrase, but the single word expressed the notion just as eloquently.

KIDDY.

As in '-fiddler'. As in '-rapist'.

Kitty leaned her forehead against Ronnie's shoulderblade and covered up the word with her palm. His chest hitched silently. She lifted her hand to peek at the scars. "Know what?" she whispered.

He shook his head.

"I love you. And those bastards misspelled my name."

Ronnie whirled around to face her, mouth open in shock. She shrugged unapologetically and met his vivid blue gaze. Then his eyes wrinkled, and he was laughing so hard he could not breathe. She curled happily against him, enjoying the feel of his body shaking with mirth.

"Can't change the past," she murmured. "But the future is ours."

"'The living end'," he managed at last, stroking her cheek. "That's what Mommy calls you. 'That Kitty, she's the living end.'"

Kitty wrinkled her nose quizzically. "What does that even mean? I love May, but what the heck does that _mean?_"

Ronnie rolled her to the edge of the bed and stood her up, gaze dragging over her lingeringly. "It means you should take your clothes off."

"Oh, I see." Kitty rolled her eyes and giggled, but she toed out of her sneakers and socks, then started on her jean skirt. He watched avidly while she undressed, reaching forward to caress the ruffles on the back of her panties when her skirt slipped to the ground.

"I love you too, baby," he murmured.

"You love _something_," she teased, wrestling out of her tee.

He shook his head. "I love _you,_" he insisted. Grabbing her hips, he drew her between his legs and kissed her lightly under her breasts. "I love _you_."

She moaned and went slightly limp in his arms, letting her head roll back on her neck, as he planted open-mouthed kisses across her chest and belly. A flush of arousal spread down from her neck, and she trusted his strong grip to hold her upright. When his lips finally closed around one of her hardened nipples, she gasped, clutching at the back of his head. His tongue fluttered lightly against the little pink berry. Kitty felt a rush of warmth between her thighs. Then he shifted his attention to the other nipple. This one he stroked with the broad, flat part of his tongue. His fingers spidered along her hips to pull down her panties. When she was completely naked, he guided her around in circles, as if he were spinning her for a game of blind-man's-bluff, and she giggled, until he stopped her rotations with her back to him. He leaned forward and gripped the curve of her buttock with his teeth.

"Ow!" she squealed, although the bite aroused her far more than it hurt her.

"Sit down," he breathed.

"What do you want? A lap dance?" she asked incredulously, grinning.

"Unh-unh, baby, just sit back."

Ronnie clasped her hips and pulled her down until she was perched on his thighs. Reaching down, he parted her legs and curled her feet around his calves so his knees were keeping her spread wide. He locked one arm around her waist. His free hand stroked the inside of her thigh. Her tiny wiggles of impatience told him that she was eager for him to touch her in a more sensitive place. He worked his way slowly toward her center, teasing her. He could see that she was biting her lip in anticipation. He tucked his face into the crook of her neck and kissed the tender skin of her throat, and she was lost.

"Ronnie..." she whined.

"You want me to touch you?"

"Yes," she gasped. "Oh, please, Ronnie, you're so good at it!"

He laughed, breath hot against her neck. "That's because I love to do it, baby. I love to get you off. I love to stroke you and lick you and make you beg. Christ, I'd eat you out all day, if you'd let me."

"Oh god..." Her fingers were digging into the forearm he had looped around her waist. She began to rock her hips, as if by doing so she could draw his hand closer to her sex. He moved with her, tilting her buttocks up and working his erection into her dripping cleft. The wet heat made him groan with desire.

"And you'd get too sensitive and beg me to stop, but I'd tie you down and keep going. I'd _make _you come, again and again. Do you believe I can do that?"

"Yes, Ronnie."

"I know my little girl, and I know what she likes." His eyelids were fluttering. He would not be able to temper his lust if he kept this up much longer. At last he drew his fingers up to part her folds. She held her breath until he began to massage her swollen, sensitive flesh.

"Is this what you wanted, baby?"

Kitty squealed happily. He struggled to control himself as she rolled her pelvis greedily against his touch and her slick center rubbed over him. "I love you, Kitty," he whispered into the soft skin of her neck.

"Oh god, Ronnie, I love you too".

Her passionate declaration undid him. Tilting her forward slightly, Ronnie positioned his erection so that her next little thrust pushed his tip inside her. He returned to stroking her taut nub, distracting her, until she rocked back and slid down over his entire length. Kitty froze, and he held her, allowing her to move or not, as his fingers continued to stimulate her. He almost wept to feel her passage enclosing him. Then she tilted her pelvis forward very slowly. And backward. And forward. The slight grinding motions were driving him crazy.

"Ohhh, that's nice," she moaned softly.

Ronnie whimpered, dragging his teeth over the muscle of her shoulder. His fingers slowed. In reaction she began to rock faster, and he dared to thrust gently up into her, trusting that his poor leverage would prevent him from hurting her. She was struggling to part her thighs even further but keep up her motion against him, all at the same time. He found her conundrum delicious.

"That good?" he grunted.

"Mhmmmm..." Her assent disappeared into a tiny gasp of pleasure. She was riding him in earnest now, pelvis rolling feverishly. He knew that her orgasm was not far away. He groaned with the effort of restraint. "What can I do, Ronnie? I want to make you come," she breathed.

He panted a laugh into her neck. "You're doing it, baby. I'm gonna...oh, fuck, you're so goddamn _tight_..."

He could not hold it much longer. His fingers sped up on her nub, and she wriggled frantically. She began to cry out again and again, her lips pursed in an O, each wail increasingly urgent. Then at last she shrieked, and she was spasming with pleasure, and Ronnie let go, emptying his ecstasy into her for a glorious, timeless moment, and he was vaguely aware that his eyes were wet against her back as the release rippled through them.

****

A/N: The notion of the burn on Ronnie's backside I actually stole from "Oz", although Toby Beecher suffers a swastika, not a word. I did try to throw a little waist-action in there for Kazuman; hope that did it for ya, sugar!

I'm starting to fear that I've not been able to convey the insecurity that IS Ronnie. A lot of film critics praised JEH's performance in the "breakdown after Mommy's death" scene, but I think the shit that really earned him that Academy Award nomination was in the scene where May is writing the lonelyhearts ad for him and he's kneeling at her feet. The sheer desperation on his face for just one word of praise from his mother...

Anyways, now he's sucking up like a sponge whatever Kitty gives him. :D (That sounds sexual, but it wasn't meant to. LOL) Almost there, loyal readers...


End file.
